62 
House 6° Garden 
THE HOUSE THAT IS MINE 
How the Principles and Details Which Make for True 
Lidividuality Helped Realize a Home Long Ago Dreamed Of 
ERNEST THOMPSON SETON 
W HEN a man l)uilds in the city he is 
beset by rules, regulations, prece¬ 
dents and customs to such an extent that 
he has but little liberty of choice. His house 
must be like the rest of the houses, ugly 
though they may be. 
But in the country, one can, and nearly 
every man does, give free rein to his in¬ 
dividuality. Show me his country home, 
and I’ll tell you what manner of man he is. 
And nearly all men have stowed in some 
far corner of their hearts the image of the 
ideal country home that some day they 
hope to build, live in, and love. This is a 
man’s dream house. 
Contact with numbers of such cases em¬ 
boldens me to lay down one or two laws. 
Every one of these dream.ers plans a little, 
inexpensive place, with its own grounds 
about. Every one, in a spirit of rebellion 
against city smugness, means to keep this 
place as primitive as possible, seeks for 
primitive furniture, primitive fireplaces, 
primitive hardware, and lists as taboo such 
things as evening clothes and modern 
lighting and heating. These last inhibitions 
rarely hold out indefinitely. Candles have 
a pleasing ancestral sound, but electric 
lights are more convenient 
and safer. The well-sweep 
gives place to the pressure 
tank, and the kitchen ket¬ 
tle to the central boiler. 
But in spite of a few sur¬ 
renders, the country home 
is usually the full expres¬ 
sion of an individuality 
that hankers after some¬ 
thing simple and sane out¬ 
doors. Therefore no two 
are alike. Some are good 
and some are bad, but none 
perhaps quite so low as the 
typical city house with 
which the building contrac¬ 
tors carefully abolished all 
beauty from New York 
streets in the days of the 
early Pullman Period. 
There is one other char¬ 
acteristic of the country 
house—it is never finished. 
Because it expresses an in¬ 
dividuality, and individu¬ 
alities keep on developing, 
there be needed changes 
each and every year. 
My own efforts at a 
country home have been in 
line with the above. 
A lover of good building, 
an amateur architect with 
lifelong experience, and a 
traveller who has seen and 
studied most of the famous 
In the plaster of the walls are 
scratched rough decorations symbolic 
of the owner’s interests 
.1 brick-paved terrace of varying levels rims 
along the front of the house, fenced in by a low 
hedge. The heavy beams of the portico are rough 
lurwn 
buildings of the world, I went at the build¬ 
ing of my country home with more than 
common ardor, and with convictions of un¬ 
usual strength and clearness. 
And whether I should build a pigpen or a 
palace, these are the seven basic principles 
that I was determined should dominate. 
ist: The purpose must dictate the plan, 
no matter where it lead me. I will not 
crowd my foot into a boot that does not fit, 
merely because it seems to the eye a beauti¬ 
ful boot. It is because of the adherence to 
these principles that each of the world’s 
great buildings differs from the next. The 
Parthenon, the Taj Mahal, the Doge’s 
Palace, Giotto’s Campanile and St. Peter’s 
have nothing in common, so far as plan is 
concerned, because all had to serve a 
different end. 
2nd: My building must be of sound con¬ 
struction. What pleasure can anyone find 
in a structure that is evidently doomed to 
early collapse? It would be like doing ex¬ 
quisite carving on a snow man or building 
fine castles of tidal sand. Instinctively all 
the world resents flimsiness. 
3rd: Honesty. Many, many times I 
have heard the architect say to his client, 
in effect: “Now what shall 
we pretend this building is 
going to be? A New Eng¬ 
land homestead, a Swiss 
Chalet up in the Alps, a 
feudal Castle or a Greek 
temple looking on the sea? 
Of course if it is to be a New 
England homestead we must 
pretend that it has a big 
log fireplace and is built of 
hand-hewn timber; if it is 
to be a Swiss Chalet we 
must pretend that it has no 
plumbing; if a feudal Castle 
we must pretend that it is to 
resist the attack of bows 
and arrows or even of primi¬ 
tive guns; if a Greek tem¬ 
ple, we must pretend that it 
has neither roof nor chim¬ 
ney, as few windows as 
possible and of course no 
plumbing at all.” 
Then, this first pretense 
settled, “Now, when shall 
we pretend it was buUt? In 
the 12th, 14th or i6th 
Century?” Followed by 
“What shall we pretend it 
is built of—marble, cut 
stone, pressed brick, tile or 
field stone? 
“Next, shall we pretend 
it is going to stand alone on 
a hill in i6th Century 
{Continued on page 112 ) 
